Tuesday Jan 10th- day 4

I have a confession to make- I smuggled a little friend in to the States in my bag. Yes, for Christmas, mybrother James gave me a "grow your own" therapist. As you can see, (if you turn your head, or the computer, on the side!), you just pop him in to water and he grows in size by up to 6 times over 72 hours! Here are some photos. I feel sure that my therapist (I will call him Roger) is going to help me to find meaning over here.


Here is how I began my therapy with Roger.


Unwrapping Roger...














Introducing him to water...




























Roger is ready to go!
"So, tell me about your childhood..."






I walk in to the University for a meeting at the International Office. I have to bring my documents and passport with me, so that the US Departments of State and of Homeland Security know that I have arrived.

On the way, I see this cool car. Old cars like this are pretty rare, but their spirit lives on in the massive SUVs which steam up and down the highways and byways here. There is no earthly reason why these people need 4-wheel vehicles- do they ALL live in remote areas surrounded by rocky terrain? No sir, no ma'am, the worst these gas guzzlers have to contend with is speed bumps at the mall. I saw one particular "Hummer" on the Ave which, in all honesty, would have been more at home rumbling through the streets of Baghdad. They sure like their big cars here, and "Nee-sarns" (aka Nissans) seem to be popular.

At Uni, as I wait for the International Students' event, I observe the other stuents, mainly South East Asian gents, interacting. There is a symphony of bowing, and the flourishing of business cards, as the Japanese and Koreans make contact. Things get even more polite with the introdcution of a couple of Chinese guys. It takes me back to happy visits to Japan, and the etiquette required of everyday interactions.

I go to the department to find out about getting a Husky card- this will allow me free bus transport, and save me from more faux pas on public transport. I will have to wait for someone to return to work.

On the way home, I call in at the University mall again, and stock up with groceries. QFC is one of the big US chains, and is owned by Kroger (the world's biggest grocer's, supermarket fact fans!) There is a whole aisle devoted to loose coffee beans. There is a massive long display case of vegetables and, when they are least expecting it, a fine water mist is deposited over the unsuspecting radishes and tomatoes.

At the checkout, you don't need to put your own shopping onto the belt, the guy does it all for you. As I pay, he asks me where I am from.
"England".
"Uh huh. Whereabouts?"
"The North."
"Uh huh."
"Sheffield."
"Yeah, I know Sheffield... Do you know about Northern Soul?"
"Err, yeah, I do. Wigan's the place for that, really."
And he starts rhapsodising about this little known genre of music popular in part of the North of England in the 1970s and 80s! That cheers me up for the long trudge home laden down with whopping red peppers and bionic onions. At home, I make a not very successful cauliflower dish. Then Ann's son Krishna pops over brioefly after work. He seems tired, and not in much of a mood to talk. He's q bit short with his Mum too. She seems a bit embarrassed. I guess it's not easy being a Mum, or even Mom, sometimes. I hereby apologise to my own dear mother for being surly back in 1988, and for not helping with the hoovering back in 1987. I could go on...